I close my eyes, “Just a little while longer.”
Rolling out of bed, I walk out of my room, dragging my feet down the hallway to the bathroom. On the way, I pass my mom’s room where I notice her sitting up in bed watching TV.
“Morning, Mom,” I say as I walk in and hug her neck.
Even after all she has been through, she’s still a beautiful woman, and I wish she wouldn’t waste herself staying with Lee
“Hey, sweetie,” she says, cheerfully. “Are you working today?” She asks while she reaches for the remote, changing the channel to the local news.
“Yeah, I have the morning shift at the store today,” I tell her as I sit down on the edge of her bed.
“Okay sweetie,” she responds, patting me on my leg, as she starts watching the weather report.
I get up and make my way out of her room when she stops me by calling out. “Oh, wake your sister up, I don’t need her missing the bus again. Lee doesn’t like when I use his truck to run her to school.”
“I’ll take her to school on my way to work. Lee needs to quit being such a dick about that truck. Hell, you pay for the damn gas in it anyway.” I say irritated.
I hear her let out a heavy sigh. I know she wants me to keep my mouth shut, but sometimes something needs to be said.
I decide to drop the subject.
“I love you, Mom,” I murmured, walking out of her room.
Finally, in the bathroom, I reach into the shower and turn the water on letting it warm up. I walk back, checking to make sure the bathroom door is locked because I don’t trust Lee to not ‘accidentally’ walk in while I’m in the shower.
I strip out of my black sleep shorts, letting them pool around my feet. Then I pull my tank top over my head, chunking it on the floor. I walk over to the counter, grab my phone, and pull up my playlist, hitting play before stepping into the shower.
Taylor Swift and The Civil Wars’ voices fill the air, singing “Safe and Sound”, as the water cascades down me. For just a few short moments the melody helps me to escape.
When I finish my shower, I head back to our bedroom, the one I share with my younger sister. Alba is 18 years old and a senior in high school.
She is, in many ways, my complete opposite.
You wouldn’t know just by looking at us we’re sisters. I’m petite, only standing five-feet-two-inches, with long, deep brown hair, and hazel eyes I feel are too big for my face. I’m also mouthy, opinionated, and stubborn.
Whereas Alba is five-feet-seven-inches, legs for miles, long blonde hair, and blue eyes.
She always has her nose buried in a book and is a bit of an introvert.
She is also very timid, shy, and would rather be reading about romance and adventures than to go out and find one of her own, but I’m not one to be preaching because, besides a couple of high school boyfriends, I haven’t done much living myself.
“Alba...Alba!” I say as I poke at the lump that is now mumbling some form of the English language.
“Time to get up. I’m taking you to school today on my way to work,” I inform her while making my way over to my dresser.
I rummage through my drawer until I find a pair of black lace panties and a matching bra and start to pull them on when Alba whines.
“Come on, Bella, just a few extra minutes. Please?” she says while curling tighter into the sky-blue comforter on her bed.
She is not a morning person, so I entice her a little bit.
“Alba, if you’re up and out this door with me in one hour, I’ll bring home that new release you saw at the bookstore last weekend.”
That gets her attention. She sticks her head out of her blanket burrito.
“You add a bag of Reese’s peanut butter cups and you have a deal.”
“Deal.”
She unwraps herself from the blanket and starts to get ready for the day. I walk over to the closet to find something to wear, grabbing a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and slip on a green sleeveless blouse.
My phone chimes with a new text message, so I walk over to my nightstand, pick up my phone, and then sit on the bed pulling up the text. It’s from Mason.
I ran into him about a month ago at the coffee shop downtown while shopping with my sister. He asked if he could take me out sometime, so we exchanged numbers. We went out a few times. One Friday he called wanting to go to dinner and a movie, so I agreed. The whole night he was super handsy and the asshole also conveniently forgot his wallet, so I ended up paying for everything. I decided to give him another chance after he apologized but that was a huge mistake.
I throw my phone down not bothering to respond to his text. I reach down, picking up my favorite pair of brown boots, pull them on and walk over to the full-length mirror putting on some mascara and my favorite lipstick.
Fifteen minutes later I grab my phone shoving it into my back pocket.
“Grab your shoes and put them on in the car, Alba. We got to get going,” I shout as I walk into the kitchen, grabbing my keys and smock off the counter.
On our way to the front door, we’re stopped by Lee, who is blocking off the door leading to the garage.
Jesus, the man reeks. It smells like he bathes in beer.
“Lee, I don’t have time for any of your shit this morning. I need to get Alba to school, and still make it to work on time.”
He stands there, letting his eyes linger on the both of us, causing my skin to crawl, and Alba to shrink behind me before he speaks.
“Your mom needs some money to go to the store, I need to eat.”
What the fuck! I know I just spent most my last paycheck to get groceries and mom just got her check not long ago.
“What the hell, Lee! Where did all the food go that I just bought? Huh?”
The asshole just stands there with a smirk on his face. No way in hell he’s getting my hard-earned money.
“Look, I’m tapped out. And if I did have it, I sure as hell wouldn’t be giving it to you.”
That pisses him off.
“That smart mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble one day, Bella,” he hisses as he goes to sit at the kitchen table, passing the fridge on the way for another beer.
Popping the top, he says, “One way or another, you two are going to earn your keep.”
I usher Alba out the door pausing just long enough to look back at him. “You know, Lee. How about you get off your ass and go find a job. Mom may not want to see it, but I know where all the money is going.”
I’ve heard enough gossip in the checkout line to know he’s been seen with some shady people in town.
The little smirk he was just wearing turns into a scowl.
I shut the door and head to my car. My sister has a look of concern as I climb in. “Nothing to worry about,” I tell her, starting the car, and pull into the road.
We’re about two blocks from the high school when Alba speaks up.
“Bella?”
Reaching over, I turn the radio down.
“Lee gives me the creeps, the way he stares at us.”
“Yeah, he makes my skin crawl too, but hopefully in a few more months I can afford a small apartment, and we won’t have to worry about him anymore. I wish Mom would stand up to his bullshit, and dump his ass.”
“Me too,” she agrees.
I’m sitting at the traffic light when a motorcycle pulls up beside me in the other lane, followed by at least five others behind him.
I can’t take my eyes off the lead biker. Damn, he’s hot.
I don’t realize I’m staring so hard until my sister breaks the spell.
“Oh my god, Bella. You’re totally perving on that biker over there!” She laughs, “And is that drool?”
“Girl, look at that! Hell yes, I’m perving!” I turn my head to catch one more look at him, and just my luck he catches me.
His lips turned up just enough, letting me know he caught me checking him out.
I shyly smile to hide my embarrassment as they all r
ev up and ride away.
CHAPTER THREE
Logan
Friday night after I’m done closing the garage I head over to Kings Ink, the other business we run in town, right across the street from the shop.
I need to finish the sleeve on my left arm. Gabriel, our enforcer, runs the place. He’s also the best artist in Montana. He has people come from all over the state wanting him to work on them, but no matter how busy he is, he always makes time for his brothers.
Gabriel and I prospected together when I was eighteen and he was nineteen. I remember the first time I met him. I had just turned eighteen and was prospecting when Jake took a trip to Florida to visit his mom. When he pulled up to the compound, after being gone a week, he had some guy with him. The only explanation he offered was, ‘this is Gabriel, he’s the new prospect,’ and for me to show him how things worked.
My first impression was he’s going to fit right the fuck in. Our club is full of big, crazy lookin’ motherfuckers and Gabriel was a big motherfucker.
Hell, I stand at six-foot-two. He stands at least six-foot-four, with short black hair, eyes so dark they look almost black, and what looks to be a permanent scowl on his face. I wasn’t so sure I was looking forward to hangin’ with him, but as time went on Gabriel slowly started opening up.
After weeks of grunts and one-word answers, he started talking to me, telling me about his past and how he met Jake.
Jake met Gabriel after watching him rob a gas station. While pumping his gas, he watched the whole thing happen. After, Gabriel jumped into his car and took off. Jake followed him to some shit motel about five miles from the place.
Prez being the crazy motherfucker that he is, just walked right up to that motel door and knocked.
Gabriel opened the door to the motel, gun drawn.
“No need for that, son.” Is what Jake had said to him.
I once asked Jake what made him go after some kid robbing a gas station.
“Had a gut feelin’,” was his explanation.
Jake always says you should trust your gut.
He was right because I couldn’t ask for a better brother. Gabriel told me he and his father left Cuba when he was only ten, leaving behind his mother and sister.
Six years after coming to the U.S., his father died.
After hearing his story, I soon realized that he wasn’t a bad guy at all, he just had a chip on his shoulder. In many ways, I could relate. We both lost important people in our lives but had gained something as well.
After a while, I could see the change the club was having on him. He was beginning to see this as a family, a brotherhood. Having a family again was exactly what Gabriel had needed.
As prospects, we were made to bunk in a room together, and one night I notice him sitting up in his bed writing in a notebook. I also had noticed that he was never really without it. Every spare moment was spent scribbling in that damn thing. So, one night I asked him what he was writing. He had studied me for a moment before handing it over. Every page was filled with amazing fuckin’ drawings.
The next day I grabbed his notebook out of the dresser and took it to Jake.
I had remembered Jake mentioning that Bobby, an older club member who ran the tattoo shop was looking for someone to start helping around Kings Ink.
Bobby was getting older, and his eyes were not as sharp as they use to be; therefore, he needed someone to slowly start taking the reins.
It took Jake about five seconds of looking at Gabriel’s work to know exactly what I was thinking.
Later that day, Jake approached Gabriel, telling him he wanted him to apprentice alongside Bobby at the tattoo shop.
Fast forward seven years, Gabriel now manages Kings Ink and is the most renowned tattoo artist in the state, and I manage Kings Custom Bikes.
Walking in the tattoo shop, I see him working on some chick’s hip.
Looking up, he gives me a chin lift. “Be with you in a minute, brother.”
“No problem, man,” I say, taking a seat in one of the chairs in the waiting area by the front door.
When Gabriel is done, he walks the girl over to the reception desk so she can pay.
I look over, noticing the chick eye-fucking me while licking her lips. She’s a hot little piece—blonde hair, tight little body, big ass tits.
As she walks past me to leave, she hands me a piece of paper with her number on it. Looking up from the paper in my hand, I see Gabriel grinning at me.
“What?”
“Man, get your ass in the fuckin’ chair.”
Standing, I slip the paper in my pocket. “That was a hot piece that just left, man.”
“She’s alright, I fucked her a few months back.”
“No shit?”
“Yeah, man. That pussy’s loose as fuck and the bitch is too damn clingy. Don’t bother.”
Fuckin’ figures.
Just as Gabriel is about to start on my arm, my phone rings.
Pulling it from my pocket, I see it’s Jake. Swiping the screen, I answer, “What’s up, Prez?”
“Where are you at?” he barks.
“I’m with Gabriel, why? What’s up?”
“You two get your asses to the club now, and come straight to the basement,” He spits out before hanging up.
Standing up, I look at Gabriel. “Sounds like there’s a situation.”
We lock up the shop, before climbing on our bikes, making our way to the clubhouse.
Fifteen minutes later we’re making our way down the basement stairs. We see one of the prospects guarding the door. He gives a chin lift and lets us by. Opening the door, I see a man tied to a chair. Jake is sitting in another chair directly in front of our tied-up friend, and Quinn is leaning up against the wall on the other end of the room.
“Hey, Prez. What do we have here?”
“Caught this motherfucker snooping around our warehouse. Prospect found him trying to break in through the back door. Knocked his ass out and called me.”
“Is he talking?” I ask.
“Nope, doesn’t seem to speak any English.”
Our eyes cut over to Gabriel. This is where he comes in.
Jake stands up, moving his chair out of the way, as Gabriel steps in front of the idiot who had the nerve to fuck around on our property.
“Nombre? Name?” Gabriel asks him.
The man spits at his feet, earning him a punch to the mouth, splitting his bottom lip.
“Nombre?” he asks his name, again.
“No te estoy diciendo mierda. I’m not telling you shit,” the man spits out.
“String him up!” Jake orders.
Quinn pushes off the wall, walking over to help me. There is a large wood beam that spans the entire length of the basement about ten feet off the floor. Grabbing some rope, I toss it over the beam while Quinn grabs the now struggling man. I thread the rope through his already tied hands and walk behind him to pull until his feet barely touch the floor. Then I wrap my end of the rope around an anchor bolted to the floor.
Visibly shaking, our nameless friend is starting to realize he’s fucked with the wrong club. Gabriel comes back over after removing his cut and t-shirt. This pussy looks like he’s about to piss his pants.
Suddenly, the man shouts out. “Mi Nombre es Manuel, por favor. Please, my name is Manuel.” He starts talking in rapid-fire Spanish, back and forth with Gabriel.
“He says, Los Demonios sent him. They found out where our warehouse is and Manuel here was supposed to call them once he broke in. They promised him a cut if he did it.”
“Those mother-fuckin’ cocksuckers think they can steal from us?” Prez roars.
We buy guns from the Russians and store them in our warehouse across town. Then every few months we run them to the Canadian border, selling them to a couple of low-level Asian street gangs. That’s how the club makes a good chunk of its money.
Now we’ve got Los Demonios sniffing around our dealings. Jake looks over to Gabriel giving him the sig
nal.
“We can’t let him live. You fuck with the club and there are no second chances. Make an example of him.”
With a nod, Gabriel unsheathes the knife he carries at his side, and in one swift move slits Manuel’s throat.
We stand there and watch the life drain from his face.
“I want his body dumped at those sons of bitches’ compound. Let this be an example as to what happens when you fuck with the Kings.” Jake rages.
“Quinn, get the prospects in here to clean this shit up. Gabriel, you’re with me. Let’s get this shit done.” I bark out.
An hour later we approach the Los Demonios clubhouse after loading Manuel’s body in the back of the van. Looks like there’s a party. We can hear loud music, and a few people are strolling around outside. Doesn’t look like they have anyone at the front gate. Stupid fucks.
We pull right up and no one even notices. I jump out and go around to the back of the van, opening the door. Gabriel comes up beside me, and together we drag the body out. We drop him to the ground, leaving him there.
Hearing a commotion, we turn to see men running from inside the clubhouse towards the front gate, guns drawn.
Stepping on the gas, we haul ass before they could get close enough. Once they see our little present, they will know exactly who they fucked with.
It’s game on motherfuckers.
I need to swing by the warehouse to check the fence that borders the property. I need to know where that bastard could have gotten through. I fire off a text to Prez, letting him know what Gabriel and I are doing.
I walk up to the front of the warehouse and see Austin, the prospect that caught that piece of shit.
“Hey, kid. Good job tonight,” I say, slapping him on the back.
“Thanks, Logan. Just glad I caught him.”
“Alright, man. Gabriel and I are going to walk the fence line to see if we can spot where he slipped through.”
Starting at the west end of the property, I start walking along the fence, and about seventy-five feet in, I see it.
Son of a bitch.
Undaunted: The Kings of Retribution MC Page 2
